Colchis
by Juliana Brandagamba
Summary: The Argo has set out for Colchis, its crew on a mission to retrieve the fabled Golden Fleece and so defeat Pasiphae, whose influence over Atlantis is growing. But the journey will be more than turbulent, and old friends and enemies will make their presence felt. Rated T in case they have to use their weapons. A sort-of sequel for Back to the Future.
1. The Argonauts

**This adventure, my attempt at guessing what might have happened in _Atlantis_ 's third season, carries on from where my story _Back to the Future_ left off. There will probably be a few references to the friends' escapades in this story, but it is not essential to have read _Back to the Future_ (though you are most welcome to).**

* * *

It seemed bizarre to be here at the harbour once again, naming a ship with the air of having done it all before – asking for the blessings of the gods on a rather fragile piece of carpentry, splashing wine on the side, declaring its name to be the _Argo_...

She was a beauty of a ship: a tall and proud mast with grand sails, the white cloth striking against the cloudless sky; the bodywork was, in a word, impressive, fashioned under the hands of the most talented ship-builders in Atlantis; and the nameplate had been struck with the utmost care – a ship fit for a King and Queen, for its crew included such important figures among its number.

Jason and Ariadne studied the handiwork and said that they liked what they saw.

They had said that before, when the first _Argo_ had been named. The second _Argo_ was better than the last, stronger and more resilient; but Jason could not help but wish that the first had survived, that it had never tossed them into an unexpected and ultimately heartbreaking adventure, itself breaking on the rocks; he wished that they hadn't had to sneak into Atlantis under the cover of darkness, and then just as furtively go to the boatyard for this secret naming-ceremony, in order to start the mission that should have been started days ago: that to save Atlantis from the growing influence of Pasiphae, somehow back from the grave and more powerful than ever before.

After their initial joy at being back in their own time, their hearts had sunk when they learnt that a day and a half had passed since the _Argo_ sank, and that in this time the entire city had been subdued by guards under Pasiphae's influence. Their unanimous thought, however, had not been about the former queen, but about Daedalus, Icarus's father and the foremost reason for them leaving the future so soon: Daedalus, who yet remained in this dangerous city; Daedalus, whose skills and knowledge would perhaps be invaluable on such a quest as theirs; Daedalus, who was as close to a father as any of them would have on this journey. Through some sneaking around and exploitation of those who were, secretly, still loyal to Ariadne as queen, they had managed to smuggle him from the place under the very noses of the guards, and lead him to their camp in the forest.

The harbour was outside, thus far, of Pasiphae's sphere of influence, and so it had been easy enough to hold this quiet ceremony to prepare one of the best ships for their quest. They would set sail the very next day, bound for Colchis, where the Golden Fleece was kept that would, they hoped, be Pasiphae's downfall and the key to peace at last in Atlantis.

* * *

'Someone's coming.'

This hissed warning by Hercules made everyone sit up straight, rubbing the approaching sleep from their eyes, and reach instinctively for the assorted weapons that lay about them. Jason jumped up, a sword in his hand, his keen eyes searching through the semi-darkness for the source of the quiet rustling that betrayed footsteps some distance away, but coming towards them. They all rolled up their cloaks and blankets, stood, slipped behind trees, watched, waited...

A figure was walking slowly and cautiously among the pines perhaps a hundred yards away. A woman... A woman with a bow in her right hand and an arrow in her left, ready to attack should there be need of it... A ruggedly beautiful woman whom Jason suddenly recognised even in silhouette, with a shiver running down his spine that always struck him when the forces of destiny were at work in his life. A name came to his lips and sprang unbidden into the twilight: 'Atalanta.'

The woman, now within earshot, looked up, saw Jason's face and then his torso emerge from his hiding-place; she smiled, came closer; and Jason knew that he was right. The woman was indeed the same archer and healer whom he had met – when? A long time ago now, but he still remembered clearly his encounter with this mysterious young woman. And had she not said that they would meet again?...

'It's fine. It's a friend...'

Slowly, cautiously, his friends showed themselves, still armed but lowering their weapons when they saw that the woman knew Jason and seemed to be on his side. Pythagoras and Hercules then realised who she was, and put up their hands in greeting, inviting the woman closer and to the safety of the grove in which they had camped.

Atalanta came forth, a striking figure in the dying light, hair tumbling about her defiant face and shoulders broadened by the exertion of wielding her chosen weapon. Her dress was short – too short, perhaps – and practical, though it did look as if it had lost a battle with a hedge. A quiver was about her shoulder, stuffed with brown-flighted arrows; she slid the arrow in her hand into this quiver as she approached, and then sat on a wide root, setting her bow beside her and studying the little company.

'It seems our paths cross once again,' Atalanta said with a smile at Jason.

'You said they would,' replied Jason, not knowing quite what to say.

'They told me I would find you here,' Atalanta went on. 'I heard about the mission to retrieve the Golden Fleece and came to offer my services on this honourable quest.'

'Who told you?' Jason furrowed his brow.

'A friend...' Atalanta paused, looking around at the faces staring at her.

Seeing that she wasn't going to elaborate, Jason spoke briefly with Ariadne in a voice only she could hear, and then addressed the huntress thus: 'I would accept your offer, on the condition that you pledge unflinching loyalty to the rightful rulers of Atlantis and all that they stand for.'

And Atalanta drew a short sword from a scabbard about her belt, knelt before the still-standing Jason and offered him the blade, her head bowed respectfully. 'I do swear fealty to the rulers of Atlantis and to all that they stand for.'

'And in front of such witnesses I accept your pledge, and invite you to join our quest,' replied Jason, inviting her to stand, and smiling at her, though his eyes still studied her carefully, searching her own eyes for any flicker, wondering who exactly she was and quite why he had asked somebody he didn't know at all well to come with them to Colchis. But she was a healer – she was blessed with the power of the gods – and the greatest archer that the world had ever seen, so... She would be useful, certainly. Loyal? Probably... He weighed this all up before nodding to the others and saying to Atalanta that she would definitely be very welcome. After all, they needed as many allies as they could get.

* * *

He consulted with Cassandra later; and the latter, though not wont to giving predictions on demand, said that the gods were in favour with this decision, and that with Atalanta on their side they also had the support of the goddess Artemis, which was always a plus.

'And may her hands be ever steady,' Cassandra said then, a little cryptically, with the flicker of a smile, before sinking back into the bizarre trance that so often took her far away from the land of mortals.

* * *

Theirs was a strange crew. At the prow of the ship stood Jason, his hair ruffled and his face bright as he at last voyaged forth to complete his quest and bring peace to his beloved Atlantis – rescuing the city that had once rescued him. Scurrying about the deck were Icarus, Hercules and Atalanta, the three of them armed, busying themselves with Jason's orders and the ropes that hung down from the mast, raising the sails and turning them to the wind. Pythagoras was on lookout duty, perched in the crow's-nest halfway up the mast, his keen eyes seeing further than most, though he looked only across the sea, hardly daring even to glance down. Daedalus and Ariadne were in the galley, making dinner as best they could on the rocking ship as it set out towards the horizon, and chatting all the while: Daedalus was unusually cheerful in the fresh sea air, and much appreciative of this attention by none other than the Queen of Atlantis, in truth a polite, kind and satisfyingly normal young woman. And Cassandra sat at the back of the ship, deep in meditation sometimes, sometimes staring out at the sea with watchful eyes and a mysterious smile on her face.

And the second _Argo_ set out at last on its quest, drawing a lazy line of white spray out from the harbour at Atlantis into the wide open waters beyond, towards Colchis and the second stage of a vitally important, if undoubtedly dangerous, mission.


	2. The Storm Breaks

There was a storm coming. Cassandra sensed it first, warning of danger to come; this could have been interpreted in a thousand different ways, but the immediate peril was determined to be the first priority, as Jason caught sight of banking clouds on the horizon, right in the path they were to follow.

Quick orders meant that the ship was as prepared as it could be for this storm. The waves began to grow darker, the sky grey; a strengthening wind tugged at the ropes in their hands, at the sails, at their hair; the first drops of rain began to fall in the early evening, just as they had been planning to eat dinner, but they abandoned this meal (much to Hercules's disappointment) in favour of being alert and ready, merely nibbling on a few snacks just in case they needed the energy.

Pythagoras and Icarus rushed back and forth adjusting the sails, for they knew a lot about the science of ships: though their experience with them was minimal, their proficiency at catching the winds and avoiding the gales was pronounced. Jason stood on the prow, turning the rudder as needed, directing operations from his position of command. And the others scuttled about to complete the necessary tasks before the full bulk of the storm was on them.

It broke just as night was approaching. A burst of rain spattered them, and then the winds blasted them, howling, stirring the sea up into a veritable minefield of high waves and whirlpools. The _Argo_ pitched about, barely controllable, but somehow managed to hold its course. Hercules, who had quite good night eyesight, kept a good look out for rocks, remembering what had happened the last time he had failed to spot a reef. They rode over the crests of scarily tall waves – yards, fathoms of seawater, dark columns that picked them up, tossing them to another part of the ocean; they all yelled aloud, even Jason, at the terrifying moments when the ship seemed to hang in midair before crashing down onto the surface.

And the storm worsened, and the crew of the _Argo_ began to grow scared, for it was full night now and they could hardly see the mighty waves that thundered beneath them, the foaming water that lapped onto the deck, and which Daedalus and Hercules, working as hard as they could, could barely bail out before the next lot came. The turbulence became immense; the storm grand and impassive, as if it was attacking them; and then, suddenly, a flash of lightning tore the sky in half, coming down on the land, which was now far off but not far enough. A moment later the thunderclap that resounded seemed to shake the very earth.

The water was everywhere, pouring over the sides of the ship, tumbling from the clouds, lifting them aloft; no longer did they have any control over the ship – it managed, miraculously, to stay upright, but their course was abandoned in favour of wherever the storm took them. They would not try to fight it; they would wait, cling on to their hope that they would survive this night, that the storm would abate –

But it did not abate. It grew steadily worse as the night went on, as the long hours passed; and then, at about midnight, the starless sky gave a thunderous roar and the sea seemed to erupt, a huge fountain, barely visible in the dark, but loud, the volume of water evident by the noise it made – a terrific waterspout, right in front of them, breaking, clattering down, the resultant waves rolling towards them at an incomprehensible speed –

'That's no storm!...' Atalanta suddenly cried over the noise –

And then something slapped down on the side of the ship, creating the most horrible cracking noise; Daedalus ran to where the noise had come from; and then he gave an awful cry, almost a scream, and then they saw him, being lifted into the air –

It was a sea monster. There was no mistaking the almost cliché-esque tentacle that had seized Daedalus's leg and was pulling him from the deck; the old scientist held on to one of the cleats, his fingers slipping on the wet rope that was wound round it; Icarus ran to him, shouting, holding on to his father, claiming him back from the monster that now emerged from the sea, its great head rearing up ready to come down on the ship, to destroy it, to eat its crew perhaps –

But Atalanta, who had seized her bow in the havoc, stood on the pitching deck and, with remarkable accuracy considering the floor was swaying violently, she loosed an arrow at the creature, which she could only half see, but which was, a moment later, struck in its eye by a well-aimed bolt. It let go of Daedalus, who stood and staggered backwards into his son's arms; Jason steered the boat away from the huge shadowy figure, which had just let out an unbearably high-pitched wail of pain. Just as Jason thought he was out of reach it gave chase, recovering far too quickly, going after the ship with speed that was doubtless due to its perfectly streamlined form – the _Argo_ swerved so much that it nearly tipped over into the relentless sea – its crew gave a yell, going for the railings, the cleats, the mast before their weapons; then when the boat was once again upright they armed themselves, and Atalanta loosed another set of arrows towards the creature; some struck it, and they heard its whistling cries: small though its injuries were, it was momentarily disorientated by each one, and Atalanta, with her incredible skill, hit it almost every time. A tentacle swept over the ship, narrowly missing the crew; Pythagoras swiped at it with his sword, equally missing; and then, suddenly, the proceedings were interrupted by an unidentifiable scream that did not belong to any of the crew of the _Argo_.

'There's someone there!...' yelled Jason then, pointing into the darkness towards a bank of rocks ahead that rose out of the water and which had been eroded into a series of caves, semi-visible through the shadows they cast and through the barrier they provided for the waves. The scream had come from somewhere around there.

All attention was turned to the rocks, from which another scream came, then a voice – 'Help me! help me!'

Jason did not say a word, but, ignoring the advancing monster, he directed the ship towards the rocks, recklessly perhaps, only just stopping as a reef began to scrape at the hull; the sea monster came after them –

Atalanta shot yet another round of arrows into it; the others held up their swords, ready to battle it; then Jason and Atalanta went to the stern with their own swords raised, calling to the monster, willing it closer. The others thought they were mad – but no, they both knew that the powers of the gods resided within them, and that they were the crew's only hope – the sea monster came down towards the ship and as one they stabbed upwards, feeling flesh split around the blades, a spattering of dark blood – the creature screeched, flailed, gave one final, horrifying thwack of the ship with its tentacle –

And then it retreated and sank beneath the waves, disappearing completely from view, and all then seemed to fall silent.

Meanwhile Icarus had clambered from the ship onto the reef, which, though battered by the storm, was not all that wet, but it was slippery. He called out to the source of the voice; a weak answer came quailing to him through the dimming noises of the storm, which was dying down really rather quickly. He ran carefully across, up the bank at the end, to the small cave that stood open to the elements – the cave that contained a woman.

She was naked, blindfolded, bound to the rocks; her face turned at Icarus's approach, and she stammered out something incomprehensible, wearied by fear and exhaustion.

'I'm a friend,' called Icarus. 'The monster is defeated.'

'Cetus?...' She was disbelieving.

'The great monster with tentacles, which we have just now driven back from here,' Icarus said.

'But who are you?'

'My name is Icarus. I am one of the Argonauts of Atlantis. Let me unbind you –'

He came over and, with his short sword, cut at the ropes that tied her arms and legs, pulled off the cloth that blinded her; she looked upon him, looked upon the nearing figure of Jason, and promptly fainted.

* * *

They clothed her whilst she was yet unconscious, and when she came to did not let her speak whilst she was still weak, instead giving her food and drink; the storm had calmed, and Jason had anchored the ship on the rocks. It was still dark, though the night was growing old.

At last she sat up and, in a quavering voice, asked, 'Who are you?'

They introduced themselves, but did not mention their titles, saying only that they were travellers from Atlantis who had been caught in the storm, and who had heard the woman's cries for help in the midst of the chaos.

'My name is Andromeda.' She lowered her eyes. 'Thank you for saving me.'

'Who was it who left you there?' asked Pythagoras out of concern more than anything else.

'And why?' murmured Hercules.

'A punishment...My mother boasted that she was more beautiful than the Nereids, and –' She sniffed, trying not to cry. 'And Poseidon sent that – that thing, Cetus, to ravage my father's kingdom, and the only way of appeasing it was to offer me in sacrifice...'

Ariadne looked shocked despite herself. In killing the monster, Jason and Atalanta had perhaps angered Poseidon, the god of Atlantis – the god she was ever trying to appease. Had they made a fatal error in rescuing this girl? – was she a friend?...

'It was sent by Poseidon?' she asked in an interrogative, regal tone.

Andromeda nodded, almost spent of all strength.

And Ariadne did not reply, instead going to consult with Cassandra and to try, if it was possible, to appease the god of the sea, the beloved god of her household, who was more than a little temperamental.

Jason too realised the implications of Andromeda's story, but said nothing, instead wondering himself what they could do to get back on the right side of the god who was, perhaps, the only thing keeping them alive on this voyage to Colchis.


	3. The Song of the Sirens

The stillness of the morning was so breathtakingly different that it was all the Argonauts could do to believe that their adventure of the night had happened. Though tired – they had not slept, and decided that they could afford to spend a part of that day asleep – they were refreshed by the chill, dry breeze that lightly ruffled them, and celebrated the end of the storm with prayers and offerings to Poseidon – a further flattery, to try to prevent him from becoming angry. They poured entire bottles of wine over the side (much to Hercules's consternation), and knelt in reverence of the god of the sea, before retreating to the cabins and going to bed.

They awoke when the Sun was highest, and then ate a very welcome meal of fish cooked with a tender seaweed that Daedalus had found on the reef; Andromeda ate quickly and in a very un-ladylike fashion, as if she had been starved for days – which they did not doubt, in truth, for she had become thin and wasted, and the clothes they had given her hung off her, though they were already small.

The crew could not help glancing at her during the meal, and hoped she would not notice. She was a pretty young thing, a princess, indeed, with wide eyes that betrayed a naïvety, a shallowness perhaps; but her figure at least was regal, and she held herself more proudly than Ariadne. Yet she was, perhaps, an enemy, a hindrance, even though she did not appear that way – for who could say what ravages Poseidon would wreak in pursuit of the king and his family who ruled across the sea?

After the meal was finished Ariadne poured the last few drops from her wine-glass into the turquoise sea; and the water swirled a little, as if receiving the gift; and meanwhile Jason clambered to the bridge and gave the orders to raise the anchor.

They had asked Andromeda if they ought to return her to her kingdom; but she had refused, recognising that the Argonauts' mission was important, and saying that her kingdom, the vast African land of Aethiopia, was far from here, and she would be glad, furthermore, to help them if she could. Certain members of the crew rather doubted that she would be of use, but did not say so, allowing her a place aboard the Argo. After all, they would need all the help they could get. And thus was the crew raised in number to nine.

* * *

They called it the Sea, as if it was the centre to the world, but in truth it had earned that name because nobody could agree on what to call it. Sometimes men called it Hospitable, for they had found shelter and happiness on its shores; some called it Wild, for there were yet ferocious tribes on its coastline, in the lands yet unconquered by any civilised race; and some called it Black, for though it was pale and calm in times such as these, it could become turbulent quickly, as they had seen – a dark, angry mass. A very disgruntled Hercules however announced that it now ought to be called the Sea of Wine, which aroused loud laughter from all on board.

Hercules was indeed the one who kept their spirits up on the journey. Often their thoughts turned to Atlantis, to their friends in the city, and they wondered what would have become of them under Pasiphae's influence. Sometimes they greatly regretted not having brought more on this quest, merely to save them from tyranny; but they agreed that they could not have brought everyone, and that if they succeeded as quickly as possible then they would have nothing to fear.

Otherwise the journey continued as planned. They had long lost sight of land, and Jason soon announced that he believed they were halfway there; a few calculations, and Daedalus and Pythagoras confirmed that they were.

Their spirits were made considerably lighter then, for they had not been going for too long and now had only that to complete again. The _Argo_ went well, responding to every light touch, to Jason's expert captainship, and the crew were contented.

* * *

All except Jason took their turns in the crow's nest, keeping a lookout over the sea for any reefs or other ships; and Andromeda had responded well to taking a turn as watcher, for she believed herself to have fine eyesight; whether this was empty boasting or not they did not know until she clambered up the mast and proved it to be the truth.

She kept them more than well-informed as to what was going on, for she had proved something of a chatterbox, and would point out white gulls or particularly interestingly-shaped clouds if she observed nothing else. Nevertheless her splendid sight proved to be useful on only her second turn in the nest.

They had heard a voice, a quiet murmuring from below deck, and Icarus had gone to investigate to find Cassandra rocking back and forth, eyes closed, whispering to whichever god had called to her; and suddenly her eyes had snapped open, and she had announced that the crew was in danger – "from those with the honey-trap voices". Icarus at once raced to the deck, and informed Jason of this; Jason called up to the crow's-nest, and Andromeda doubled her guard.

'I see them!' she called out suddenly, halting everyone in their tracks. 'They are Sirens! Quickly, we must head south, away from them!'

The crew were just leaping to this order when a sound like liquid music came to them over the sea, a bewitching and entrancing song, one that turned their heads and began to captivate them. Andromeda kept up her shouts of 'South! _South_!' even as those on the deck left their posts and wandered towards the port side; then, as she felt herself slipping into the dreamy trance that the spell wreaked, she opened her mouth and began a song to rival that of the Sirens.

None of the crew would have believed that such an incredible voice could come from so weak a being, but it did, and Andromeda sang loudly and purely, with rich low notes and reverberating high ones; she did not sing a particular tune, just an ululating warble that seemed to drown out the song of the Sirens. And the crew were released from the power of the Sirens, and realised that they were drifting off course, and hurried to steer the ship southwards.

But her torture at the hands of Poseidon had weakened her more than she had reckoned on, and soon her voice gave out, breaking as she tried to carry on, becoming hoarse as her breath ran out. She spluttered out as many more notes as she could as she stuffed her fingers in her ears; at last she had to yell to the others to follow her lead, for she could not sing any longer.

And the crew covered their ears so that the song of the Sirens was blocked out; but they did so at the expense of navigating the ship, and Pythagoras managed to throw the anchor overboard so that they did not drift.

And the _Argo_ came to a dead halt, and its crew were still.

They stood there, exchanging glances. The Sirens they knew would be their destruction, if they listened to their song; but they could do nothing here, with their hands over their ears, anchored in the middle of the Sea, miles from anywhere.

It was then that Daedalus did a strange thing. He rushed to the mast, leant against it, and mimed as best he could some bizarre action, mouthing frantically. The others stared at him, trying to read his lips; from what they could guess, he wanted them to tie him to the mast.

Hercules went for some rope, and he and Pythagoras, taking their hands from their ears, tied Daedalus up before the spell affected them, hoping very much that this was indeed Daedalus's wish; and then they staggered backwards, their eyes on the far-off rocks on which the shadowy figures of the Sirens reclined. Then they covered their ears once more, and Daedalus pointed then to the anchor, mouthing some further instruction.

And, confused and worried, they went to the anchor and raised it.

The ship, directed only by its sails, drifted lazily towards the east, straight past the Sirens, which were but a couple of miles distant; Daedalus writhed in his bonds, for he could hear them, but he did not yield, and aroused the curiosity of the crew through his strange actions. Then, suddenly, his wriggling stopped, and the crew looked towards the rock just in time to see the Sirens stand and leap from it into the sea.

They uncovered their ears, slowly, tentatively, and found that the Sirens' tempting song had ceased; they untied Daedalus, and tossed out the anchor once again, crowding round the old scientist and asking him what exactly he had done.

'It is said that the Sirens must die if a mortal passes them and hears their song without succumbing,' Daedalus explained, his voice showing the relief that he felt. 'Therefore I listened, but made it so that I could not yield, and the Sirens perished.'

They could not praise him enough for his knowledge, quick thinking and outright bravery, so much so that Andromeda, who had been the first to spot the Sirens and the first to try to outwit them, became rather jealous. Indignantly she voiced that she had bought them time with her song; at length they congratulated her, a little irked by her boasting, and asked why she thought to sing, and where she had learned to sing so magnificently.

'The Sirens are common in the seas around my father's kingdom,' she explained, 'and if you drown them out with your own music, you will be protected from their spell. My mother taught me to sing.'

In the end it was agreed that both Andromeda and Daedalus, and indeed Cassandra, who had not spoken since her warning but who had been of great importance, had been vital in ensuring their salvation from the Sirens, and in their next meal, which they took there and then, they toasted them, at the same time hoping that they would not run into any further dangers before they landed at Colchis.


	4. A Family Affair

_The king was angry, and when the king is angry, the very kingdom grinds to a halt as the subjects hurry from their tasks to see what the king wants. He had already smashed two jars, and orange and black pottery littered the floor, surrounded by the off-white of the wine he favoured. His personal servant came rushing in and asked what he wanted. He said that he needed nothing – nothing material at the least. After a moment's thought, just as the servant was about to leave the room again, he reconsidered and asked the servant to send for his daughter._

 _The servant nodded and left, still a little afraid by the fiery countenance of his king. When he returned he was accompanied by the king's daughter, who dismissed the servant with a wave of her hand and greeted her father with all of the affection and concern that she felt for him then, seeing that he was in a state of great anxiety._

 _'_ _Father,' she said, and bowed slightly: for though she was his daughter, he always demanded the respect that he thought he deserved._

 _'_ _Medea,' he said, a smile coming to his eyes though his lips did not even twitch. 'Medea, my daughter.' He looked as if he might sweep her up in his arms, but seemed to think better of it, and turned so that he faced her directly. 'What do you know of a ship called the_ Argo _?'_

* * *

'How far to go now?' Jason called out to Daedalus and Pythagoras. The two were studying charts roughly drawn up on paper that was now more than a little damp, and had plotted the journey based on wind speed and landmarks (or rather, sea-marks, as they preferred to call them). They had passed a series of small uninhabited islands and so knew almost exactly where they were.

'Another day's sailing at the most,' called back Daedalus.

Jason nodded, and retreated from the hatch to deal out orders to those on the deck. Atalanta and Ariadne, who incidentally got on well, hurried to sort out the sails; Icarus remained at the rudder, keeping the ship on its good course; and Andromeda reported from the crow's nest that there was little of interest – or rather, according to her, there was an interesting group of seabirds on the crest of a particularly pretty wave, but Jason did not really care for seabirds. He had considered many times on this voyage that though Andromeda's eyesight was proving really rather useful, the rest of her was very irritating, and he held a secret hope that she could find her own way home from Colchis.

It was, as sailors said, plain sailing now. The storms had ceased, and they were near to land, and it was unlikely that there would be any more Sirens in the place, as they were aggressively territorial on top of everything else.

Therefore Jason took the opportunity, whilst the ship was as good as sailing by itself, to practise his sword-work, sometimes on his own, whirling like an Arabian dervish around the deck; sometimes with the quick-witted Atalanta, who proved a formidable opponent. Her steps were quick and her blows direct and accurate: she was certainly a worthy addition to the crew, and Jason did not regret taking her on.

He had begun to think about what might happen at Colchis. He knew little of the country, save that it was ruled by King Aeëtes, a strict but mysterious monarch who tended to keep himself to himself, and who, it was said, possessed almost unimaginable wealth; and the land itself was somewhat arid, but not so much that it was uninhabitable. Pythagoras had found an old map of Colchis in the library, and had managed to smuggle it with them: but consulting it did not help much when it came to locating the Golden Fleece.

The Golden Fleece! was it not the stuff of legend? Indeed, Jason had tried many times to rack his brains back to when he had learnt the Greek myths in primary school, tried to recall any facts that might be useful about this magical, even ethereal item. Apparently it would defeat Pasiphae. Well, they would find that out as soon as they found the Fleece. He remembered it being in some sort of grove, or orchard...

At length he had to give up. They would worry about such matters when at last they landed in Colchis, and regarded its expanses with the eyes of questers. For now the matter at hand was very much avoiding rocks, keeping a straight course and landing the boat safely in some harbour.

* * *

 _King Aeëtes looked out of the window, which gave a magnificent view across the glittering sea beyond the cliffs that rose sharply before him. He wondered if he would be able to perceive the ship from here. But of course he would! His palace looked out on the kingdom, and he could see nearly all of his coast, though it stretched for miles in both directions. Evidently it had not yet broached the horizon. Well, when it did, then would he give the order._

* * *

They were just going to settle down for the night, and leave Atalanta on the night's first watch, when there was a cry they scarcely recognised, and a figure came running up to the deck, silhouetted in the half-light. It was Cassandra, who had not said a word in what seemed like days – had they even seen her? It was curious how she managed to remain out of their thoughts, but at the same time they were most likely in hers, such was her Sight.

She went straight to Jason, and, her face panicked, babbled out some incomprehensible string of phrases – a fragmented prophecy, no doubt, one that came to her in snatches, and was of such great import that she could not wait until the end before relating it.

Jason did not mean to be rude to Cassandra, but he could not help but put up his hand, stopping her.

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'but I can't understand what you're saying.'

She hesitated, and began to sway; at last she said: 'The King means to attack. You must find shelter. Be careful, beware the princess.'

And with that enigmatic warning, she disappeared back below the deck.

'The King...' Jason paused. 'I presume she meant the king of Colchis.' He turned to those of his friends who were still on deck. 'King Aeëtes.'

'Presumably,' said Pythagoras, who looked a little afraid. 'When she said attack... Has the king seen us coming? Does he know who we are?'

'What would our names be to him?' replied Jason.

'Our names would mean nothing,' said Pythagoras, 'but our mission might...'

'How would he have found out about the mission?' asked Hercules. 'We've told nobody.'

'Word gets round if it is important enough,' replied Pythagoras, his face growing ever paler. 'I don't understand why he would be attacking us otherwise...'

'What are you two talking about?' asked Jason, now thoroughly confused. 'Is the Golden Fleece one of the King's prized possessions, or something?'

All of the others stared at him; and Jason felt a prickle somewhere about the nape of his neck, a feeling that always took him whenever something like this happened. He had been a long time in Atlantis, and he knew a lot about the place – enough not only to fit in, but to _feel_ as if he fitted in, as if he was an actual citizen – and it was a good job really, seeing as he was technically king of the place. But there were some things that were common knowledge among the locals that he did not know, that he did not know he needed to know, and this was evidently one of them.

'Tell me, then,' he said. 'What does our quest matter to the King of Colchis? Truly, I don't know.'

'The King of Colchis,' said Pythagoras, 'would not, I imagine, be very pleased if he found out we meant to kill his sister.'


End file.
